Theodosia thought the woman who greeted her was quite a sight for sore eyes. A very pretty thing, she was, and Theodosia had to mentally tell her heart to shush when it gave a little thud. She shook the woman's- Christine's -hand and replied, calm as always, "Tea would be lovely, thank you. I'm Theodosia. Theodosia Strong." Her accent was clearly out-of-place for Whitby, and if one had met an American before, they'd be able to tell this was where she was from. Specifically, the south of the country, if said one knew the difference in inflections. Her intent was to browse this morning, and now that she'd laid eyes on the proprietor of the establishment, what she was looking for wasn't just books anymore.